by Shyla Colt
“No. It’s misleading.” She taps the papers with her pointer finger.
“Is it that bad?” I set the paper down on the counter and step closer, boxing her in with my body.
“What?” Her voice wavers.
“To be romantically linked with me?” I stand so close I can feel the heat of her body.
“But I’m not.” She grips the counter behind her.
“Did you want to be?”
“Anders?” she whispers.
I grip her hips and pull her body to mine. She molds against me like she’s meant to be there. “Because it’s crossed my mind so many times.”
“I ... We shouldn’t.”
“No?” I bend down and let my lips hover above hers. Her breath caresses me. I don’t know who moves first, but our lips are meeting. A jolt of lightning streaks through me, and I canter my head, needing more. My tongue caresses her lips. She parts them, and I dip my tongue deep, tasting her. Sweet, hot, and irresistible. My heart threatens to burst through my ribs, and the blood rushing straight down has my cock straining against the zipper of my jeans. I’m slowly catching fire for this woman.
Her fingers caress the hair at the nape of my neck, and I groan as she leaves streaks of fire in her wake. Her tongue slicks against mine. I lift her onto the counter. She winds her legs around my hips. Our teeth clash as we drink deeper of each other. We’ve unleashed the secrets from Pandora’s Box, and I’m going to make sure it’s worthwhile. Her nails rake against my scalp, and my hips surge forward. Her shoulders knock into the cabinet.
Plink. Plink. Plink. I’m pelted by ... macaroni? An avalanche of dry noodles falls into her lap, on the floor, and me. Defeated, I slap my hand on the cabinet door, closing it, and she slumps back. Her lower lip quivers, and she bursts into laughter. I join her.
“That was a terrible idea anyway, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” But my heart still aches at the loss.
She bites her lip. “We need to clean up and get set up for tonight.”
I lower my arms and step back, cursing the universe’s timing. We sweep and vacuum, clearing the mess, and I set up the lighting and cameras.
“I’m going to take the garbage out and put a new bag in, so we don’t get buried in garbage once we start cooking.”
“I’m almost done here. We can get started when you come back. People were really excited to see how well the Gem pan will look. Some even sent me photos of their own heirloom cooking ware.”
“I love that. History fascinates me.” She gives me a genuine smile, and my stomach lurches. Two more weeks and I can go after her full stop.
I adjust the camera’s height and set out everything we’ll need, fully aware that her daughter has a bedtime she needs to keep.
“Is he here?”
“What are you doing? You have no right to just show up here.”
“I do when you’re exposing my daughter to your very public affair.”
“First of all, Clem isn’t here, and you have a funny way of wording things. I am single. I can date whoever the hell I want.” Her voice raises in anger, and I tense.
“Damnit. You think this is going to get back at me? You’re making yourself look like a fool.”
I was done when he swore at her. Leaving my equipment behind, I stalk outside and find the Car King himself. My jaw tightens.
“Is there a problem?”
“Look at him, walking out like he owns the place.”
“We’re filming a session. Why are you even here? Clem is with Jordan right now, so you can go. I don’t expose our daughter to strange men I’m not sure will stick around.”
“Low blow.”
“Honest statement,” she counters.
Jackson gives me a once over. “This is your rebound.”
She shakes her head. “Go away, Jackson, back to your blonde, your new home, and your new life. There’s nothing for you here.”
“Nothing?” He steps forward, and I tense. “You sure?” He trails his fingers down her face, and I see red.
Shoving him back, I step in front of her. “She said it was time for you to leave.”
“What? You’re going to knead me to death?” Jackson mocks.
“No, I’m going to watch you get back into your car and drive away, so we can finish the evening we had planned. You’re the interloper here.” I stare him down.
“I’m her husband and the father of her child. I will always have a place with Tilda.”
“Ex,” she yells. “And don’t call me that.”
“Do you know you two are on Buzzfeed? Buzzfeed, Matilda! Guess your plans for the quiet life are shot, huh? Makes you look silly for not making it work with me.” There’s a wealth of pain in his words. Whatever he says, he’s not over his ex-wife at all.
“That was the least of our problems. Good-bye, Jackson.” She turns her head away.
“Fine. I know when I’m not wanted. If this starts to affect Clem, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Unlike you, I always think about our daughter before I do anything,” she whispers, too low for him to hear as he strides away like he owns the place.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. Jackson’s had a rude awakening lately about what it means to be divorced.”
“Are you going to be okay to film?”
The bitter laugh that comes from her hurts my heart. “It takes more than a Jackson tantrum to ruin my night. Let’s go get this filmed.”
Subdued, I follow her back into the house. After everything she’s been through, why would she open herself up to more scrutiny?
Chapter Four
S’Mores
2/3cup of butter, softened
1cup of brown sugar
1/2cup of sugar
2eggs
1teaspoon vanilla
1teaspoon of baking soda
1/2teaspoon salt
1teaspoon cinnamon
2 1/2cups of flour
1package of dark choc-chips
1cup of mini marshmallows
3regular size Hershey's® milk chocolate candy bars, broken
2package graham crackers, broken into squares
Matilda
“What the hell was up with him showing up at your house?” Jordan asks as we watch Clem and her son, Ryder, play in the ball pit at the restaurant. We would usually be at the park, but winter forces us to get a little creative when it comes to letting the kids burn off energy.
“I have no clue.” I exhale. “Jackson probably doesn’t either. He has a habit of acting before he thinks.”
She points a fry at me. “He’s jealous.”
“Of what?” I throw my hands up in the air. “He left me, Jordy.”
“To save face. We both know you were never going to take the man back after catching him red-handed.” She takes a long sip of her drink.
“He made his decision when he decided to cheat.” I wrinkle my nose, thinking of the compromising position I caught him in on our living room floor. I burned the rug.
“No. I think Jackson thought he could have it all. He’d keep a sweet thing on the side to make him feel like the big man on campus and hold on to the love of his life.”
“Are you taking up for him?” I turn to her, stunned.
“Never.” She squeezes my arm. “I’m explaining why he’s still head over heels in love with you.”
“Pssh. He should get over it.”
“Seeing you linked with Anders shook him. It was fine when you were alone and caring for Clem. Now he sees you for the sexy, single woman you are. And I’m petty enough for the both of us to love it.” She grins wickedly.
“E-vil.” I elongate the two syllables of the words.
“Are you going to tell me what’s up with the Cookie King now?”
“Nothing.” Not totally true.
“He looks at you like he wants to take your panties off with his teeth.” She clicks her teeth together.
“Jordan.” My jaw drops, and she chuckles.
“Ugh.” I roll my shoulders. “I don’t know why. But I wish they’d stop.”
“Once you two get together, it might die down.” Jordan nudges me.
“That is not going to happen.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“Look at how things are going now. If we dated, I’d never get away from the public interest.” Images of the strict diets, the abrasive comments from Jackson, and all the community events we had to attend flash in my mind.
“Matilda,” her voice softens, “you know he’s not Jackson.”
“Of course.” The two couldn’t be more different. From Jackson’s blue eyes and blond hair to the way Anders’ family worked their way up from nothing.
“Then why are you so opposed?” She leans in closer. “I know you like him.”
“Are you kidding me? He drives me insane.” I dip a fry into ketchup and bring it to my mouth.
Jordan watches me silently. “He makes you feel, and it’s been a long time since that happened. Why would you let that go?”
“Because the pressure would be the same. To be perfect. Never say the wrong thing. Hold on to him when so many people want to take him because of who he is.” My voice cracks. I know Brittany targeted Jackson. He was rich, handsome, and apparently ripe for the picking. I don’t want to live with that worry or hate. No one had ever let me forget that I was a black girl with a wealthy white man in the limelight. I felt I had to be more everything to justify it for others. I want a man with aspirations for a normal life. One that isn’t run by cameras, social media, or big dreams that involved public opinion. I paid my dues with that, and in the end, I wouldn’t recommend it. Though, I’d be forever grateful for my baby girl. She was my life.
“Matilda. You’ve come a long way with healing this past year. Don’t let fear make you miss out on what is right in front of you.”
“How is knowing what I want and what I don’t allowing fear to win?” I feel the panic rising inside of me.
“Because nothing you said had to do with Anders himself.”
“He’s a bossy task driver with a wicked voice that melts me like butter, and brown eyes I could get lost in. But his job is a deal-breaker.” I slap the table, and we both jump.
“Shit.” Tears crowd my eyes. “He’s still winning,” I croak.
“He hurt you badly, babe. It’s perfectly normal to be scared. As long as it doesn’t rule you.”
I’ve thought those words to myself like a mantra, but hearing them from someone else helps.
Sniffling, I nod, and dash at the tears threatening to fall.
“Mommy.” Clem runs toward me with Ryder trailing behind.
“Did you have fun, baby?” I force a smile onto my face and will my eyes to dry up.
“We did. But we’re ready to eat now.” Clem climbs into her seat across me after helping Ryder into his. Nearly four, he’s still getting a hold of his motor skills and emotions. I love the kind heart that allows her to play with the younger boy while watching out for him. They were more like siblings than family friends.
“Good thing we have these kids’ meals then, huh?” I push her chicken nuggets toward her, and she bites into it happily. We don’t do fast food much, so this is a real treat.
“Mom?” she asks a few minutes later.
“Yes?”
“People at school were talking about your show.” She looks impressed.
“It’s not my show, sweetie,” I correct her gently.
She frowns. “But you’re the Cookie Queen.”
I laugh. “It’s just a silly name Anders gave me.”
Her brown eyes dotted with specks of green and gold light up. “The Cookie King?”
“That’s him.” I boop her nose with my pointer finger.
She leans forward, her face a study of seriousness. “Can I meet him?”
“Do you want to?” I ask carefully.
She nods her head enthusiastically. “Yes. He’s helping us, right?” She grins, showing her missing front tooth.
“He sure is, baby.”
“Then I should meet him and learn how to make the secret cookie.”
“The secret cookie?” How the hell does she know any of this?
“Yeah. We’re going to make up our own cookie like he does, right? That’s what he said.”
“You’ve been watching the show?” I glare at Jordan, who shakes her head and holds up her hand.
“Wasn’t me.”
“Uh-huh. With Ms. Brittany. She sure does like Mr. Cookie King.”
Jordan cackles like a witch. “Oh, I bet she does.”
“She says he’s cute and ohs and aws. It’s gross.” She wrinkles her nose. “She said it was good for me to know you were learning, so I could help you.”
Sneaky, sneaky.
“Well, I can ask him if you can come to our last lesson. I don’t feel comfortable with you being on film, but if you’re very patient and listen to directions, I think we can fit you in.”
“I’ll be really good, Mommy.”
“I know you will.” Okay, Universe, I get it. There’s no escaping Anders Rivera.
“If you behave for Aunt Jordan, I’ll call and ask him now.”
“Yay.” She takes another savage bite of her nugget.
I laugh as I stand and make my way outside.
“Hey. Everything okay?” Anders asks quickly.
“Yeah. I have a question for you. Would you mind if my daughter joins us for our last lesson?” I rush the words, squishing them all together.
“You want me to teach your daughter, too?” he asks.
“Yes. Clementine wants to meet you and help with the secret cookie.” I sigh.
“That’s adorable.”
“Clem generally is. Which is both a good thing and a bad thing.”
“You know I’d love to have her join us. But I imagine you don’t want her on tape.”
“No,” I say flatly. I won’t mince my words on this.
He hums. “What if we get together after the last taping?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Spending time with you is no hardship.”
I swallow. It’s sweet of him to make the offer. “Okay, I’m going to tell her now. She’s about to burst.”
“I’ll see you next week.”
“Yes, you will.” I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my lips. Damn you, Jordan. Now you have me thinking and wanting things I shouldn’t
“ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? It’s our last taping.” He fiddles with the angles on the camera.
I toy with the edge of my shirt. Suddenly, I’m the one not ready for this to end.
“Yeah.” I give a weak smile.
“Good.” He peers at me over the camera. “Because you’re going to fly solo.”
“What?” My stomach drops to my feet.
“I won’t be there with you when you make them for the contest. It’s time for you to fly free on your own, baby bird. You’re ready.”
“I won’t be there.” The words circle around in my head like an airplane ready to land.
“No, it’s your magic that’s preventing me from screwing all this up.”
“Nah. You just needed to build up confidence and get the basics under your belt.”
“Wh-What are we going to make?”
“Royal S’mores.”
“What?” I’m still trying to wrap my head around all the ingredients that have to go into a s’more’s cookie.
“You know, ’cause we’re the king and queen.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“I thought I was in training,” I say dumbly.
“I’m taking away your training wheels and giving you the crown. We’ll make them with crown cookie cutters. It’ll be great.” He reaches out and cups my face. “Hey, no need to stress. We’ve gotten through the hard part, getting back in the kitchen.” His thumb caresses the side of my c
heek, and I relax, leaning into him. “Better. Take a deep breath. Good girl.”
I’m officially a puddle ready to slide onto the floor.
He moves away. I sway slightly, blinking. How easily he makes me forget everything. Part of me hates him the way he breaks through my defenses. I straighten to stand tall. He’s already got one foot out the door. I’ve served my purpose for him.
“All right, let’s bake.”
After laying out our ingredients, we begin to film.
“As you know, all good things must come to an end, and this sweet lady is on her final lesson. She has a dragon to slay in the form of a cookie contest. We’re all rooting for her, aren’t we?”
I smile. “I’m going to do my best.”
“You’ve heard it here exclusively. We’re making Royal S’mores. So good you’ll ask for ...” He turns to me.”
“More.” I smile, feeling far more comfortable in front of the camera than I used to.
“Exactly.” We fall into a steady rhythm as we prepare for the cookies.
“I’ll be taking a step back and letting the Queen gain her crown today.”
I swallow and look at the directions posted on the counter in front of me. I beat the sugar and butter together until the mixture is light and fluffy before adding the eggs one at a time. Last, I add the vanilla. I’d cursed Anders for his training, but muscle memory is taking over. Slowing down the mixer as directed, I add the flour little by little.
“The key to these cookies is preparation. We’ll be letting the dough rest in the freezer for fifteen minutes to save time. But you can keep them in your fridge from anywhere from twenty-four hours to forty-eight.”
I use the scoopers with the prepared dough and place them on the sheets, two inches apart.
“Look at her go, folks. The Queen is ascending the throne. Now what you’ll do is flatten them, add your piece of chocolate, and half a large marshmallow. Then we wrap them up tight and wait. In video time, we’ll be back in a blink.” He winks, stops the camera, and sets my BB8 timer for fifteen minutes as I put the tray in my freezer. The timer beeps, and they go into the preheated oven. In the end, I have a golden-brown, melted chocolate, gooey marshmallow concoction. We finish wrapping the video, and I exhale.
